the truth which will refresh my broken mind
by Prophet of Doom
Summary: They are built on the silence between them, the things they never say. They never need to say anything. Sometimes they do anyway. Damon/Elena


**Disclaimer:** I own nothing. They're watching _True Blood_, if that's not clear, and the title is from Mumford & Sons' _The Cave_.

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><p>It happens like it always does.<p>

They are lounging on the couch, the Gilbert family paraphernalia scattered about like ruins of an age long since past. The television is on, their shoes are off. The scene could be construed as two people hanging out. It wasn't intentional. They never intend to do anything together, but one or the other shows up, and somehow they stay.

The vampire on the couch scowls at the vampire on the screen. "Why does he look so _sallow_?"

Elena rolls her eyes. "He's a vampire, Damon. That's what they're supposed to look like." At her companion's raised eyebrow, she can only shrug. "It's not his fault the make-up people don't know any real vampires."

Her answer does little to appease him. "Then they should have done more research."

They sit in silence for all of a minute before he's at it again. "And what's _her _deal?"

She sighs. "What do you mean?"

"Well, why is she practically gazing at him? All he did was order a drink and show up too late to a fight."

"Why don't you watch and find out?"

"Let's skip that part. I'd rather have you tell me."

The corners of her lips quirk upwards despite herself, and he knows he's won. He nudges her shoulder in encouragement.

"It's because she can't hear him."

He pauses. Blinks. "Pardon?"

She presses on. "She can't hear him."

"But didn't they just have a conversation?"

A sigh, an eyeroll, the usual. "No, she can't _hear_ him. His thoughts. She's telepathic."

"Oh." He tilts his head, inquisitive and impatient. "Why can't she…_hear_ him?"

"Because he's a vampire. She can't listen to a vampire's thoughts."

He nods, once, a play of understanding. "But why is she gazing?"

She turns back to the TV, considering. "Because it's relaxing to be around him. Think about it. All those thoughts in your head, all the time. All that noise. And suddenly there's silence. Not loneliness, but…quiet. It's a relief, being with him."

He stares at her profile for a moment, studies the curve of her eyelashes, the point of her nose, the jut of her chin. The jagged shapes that assemble into a perfect, unbroken whole.

The TV reclaims his attention then, and that could be that. But it's them, and it never is just that.

When she speaks, her tone is muted, and yet the echoes drown out the rest of the world. "I feel that, sometimes. With you." A beat. "Like I can just relax. Which doesn't make any sense, because you make me crazy, but sometimes, with us, it's just…easy."

The afternoon sunlight streams through the windows, illuminating the dust motes suspended in the air. He can hear the particles crashing together. He waits for them to settle. Holds his breath.

"When I'm with you, I – I don't have to try so hard. I don't have to try and save you." A wry chuckle. "How could I?"

He doesn't move, his eyes fixed on some indistinct point in the distance. Then, with quiet force: "I don't need you to save me."

"I know."

The moment stretches, tumbling through all the things they don't say. _(things they already know.)_

Her eyes wander to his still form, searching, retreating. Find his. The glance catches. A mistake. _(Isn't it always?)_ Holds for _one, two, three, four_ –

It breaks.

He is rigid at her side, and for a second she feels that reeling panic that comes whenever she says what she feels. But through the ringing in her ears –

"I still don't see why he has to be so pasty."

The gratitude she feels for him then threatens to undo her. She wills herself to maintain her casual demeanor, even when all she wants to do is –

She keeps herself composed. "They can't all have daylight rings, Damon."

"That's no excuse." He grumbles.

He shifts back into the couch cushions, and she angles toward him instinctively. He turns the volume up on the TV, and as they lose themselves in the drama she feels the back of his hand brush hers. She glances down at their hands, their fingertips curling around each other naturally.

With the barest hint of a smile on her lips, she looks up again. _Easy_.


End file.
